Bohol is a frenzied friend, a meticulous muse,
A jealous suitor, a selfish lover
The object of my desire and my envy
The undisputed love of my life
Sometimes, to miss her is relief
Other times, it is tragedy
I keep my poems to her hidden
Under my pillowcase
That way, it’s closer to my head
It’s wise to not think about her with your heart
Sometimes, to write of her is relief
Other times, it is tragedy
She takes and takes and takes
Takes too much to be reasonable
For that reason alone
I sail back home
To not know her is relief
To return is a tragedy
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